


Still Fading Marks

by Diary



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: American Sign Language, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Character of Color, Canon Divergence - Avengers (2012), Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Friends Become Romantic Partners, Late Night Conversations, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind Manipulation, Natasha Romanov's Arrow Necklace, Natasha Romanov-centric, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Female Character, POV Natasha Romanov, Past Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse, Past Mind Control, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 18:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6388735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Loki takes all memory of Natasha from Clint. Natasha's POV. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Fading Marks

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Avengers.

After the battle’s over, Clint’s unstrapped from the bed, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

…

Fury watches her being bandaged up. “You aren’t going to take this personally, are you?”

“Not against Clint,” she manages to croak out.

It’ll have to be Hawkeye or Barton, now, she realises with a pang.

“If we can’t restore his memory, you’ll need to be reassigned.”

She nods.

Loki took Clint’s choice to lower the arrow pointed at her, the years of friendship, and the years of loyal partnership away.

When she’d put her hand on his shoulder, she’d expected him to pull her into a hug.

It might take plastic surgery to keep a scar from forming on her neck.

She tries to tell herself, at least, Clint still has all of his skills. Few others could have taken a knife off her and had her on the ground so fast.

…

From his cell, Clint stares at her. “My name is Clint Barton, I’m a level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D Agent, and I’m authorised to tell you…”

She doesn’t sigh or try to patiently explain this isn’t a trap, he’s level 3, now, or anything else.

Bringing her hands up, she signs, _My name is Natasha Romanov. We used to spell it R-o-m-a-n-o-f-f_.

Encouraged by the expressions playing against his face, she continues, _You taught me this. You learned it in the circus. You lost your hearing when-_

“Stop,” he orders. “You’re even gooder than S.H.I.E.L.D thought.”

Before she can stop herself, she says, “‘Gooder’ isn’t a recognised word, Clint."

Tilting his head, he studies her.

“Sorry. Barton,” she says.

“You like me."

Thrown and trying not to let hope start to reappear, she responds, “Yes. Whether you believe it or not, you and I have been friends for years.”

“I don’t. But you do like me. Why?”

She almost laughs.

“We’re friends,” she repeats.

“No, we’re not,” he says. “Even if I believed that Phil’s dead and Fury was letting a Black Widow run around, I don’t know you. I don’t like or respect you.”

“That’s fair. Barton, Phil was my friend, too. He taught me how to play baseball and parallel park. When this is all sorted, I hope you believe that I truly mourn him, too.”

Clint leans back. “Look at this from my side, okay? A god killed my best friend, Fury isn’t acting like Fury, and this Black Widow is acting like she’s half in love with me. If you woke up strapped to a bed, didn’t know how you got there, and were told you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D and should be loyal to them, what would your reaction be?”

“Much more violent and deadlier than yours,” she answers. “Half in love? That’s new. We’ve never had sex, but we have slept together. Most people think we do the former. Some think I do it in gratitude for you sparing me, and some think you sparing me was because I seduced you.”

Shut up, for the love of any non-Asgardian gods out there, she harshly tells herself.

“And you _do_ work for S.H.I.E.L.D and should be loyal to them,” she adds.

He gives a slight nod. “Yeah, but this isn’t them. So, just so I have this straight: I decide not to kill you, you start working for us, and that translates into sex? That would be an insult to both of us.”

Warmth floods through her. “People can be stupid,” she offers.

“There it is. That look on your face. If I didn’t know how good you Widows are, I’d say you don’t even realise you’re doing it.”

“I’m the last,” she says. “The rest of the Black Widows were wiped out. And I’m the only one you’ve seen up close and personal. You have no idea how good I am, Barton. I realise that likely doesn’t help my case, but among the other things you don’t believe, there’s this: I won’t lie to you. There are things I can’t tell you right now, but on my life, I swear that I will not ever lie to you.”

Firm eyes match his verbal declaration of, “You won’t get the same promise from me."

“I’m not asking for it. You never said that to me, but the Clint Barton I knew- I didn’t need it. I knew I could always trust him.”

Technicians with medical equipment and armed agents come in.

“Do you want me to stay,” she asks.

“No.”

She leaves.

…

When she walks in, the look on his face makes her pause. “What is it?”

“Interesting necklace,” he comments.

Her hand automatically goes up to touch it, and walking over, she sits down in front of the cell. “I bought it three years ago. Do you like it?”

He shrugs. “Why’d you buy it?”

“You asked me the same thing back then. I saw it and liked it. You bought me clasp extensions so that I didn’t have to deal with the clasp.”

“But buying it had something to do with me.”

“Yes and no,” she answers. “It reminded me of you. I can’t break down the exact reasons I like it, but part of it has to do with our friendship.”

“Could I see it?”

She doesn’t know how to answer.

Holding his hands up, he nods to the meal slot. “I promise, I’ll stay on the bed until you get back to the chair.”

“That isn’t what I’m worried about. Clint, I understand you’re trying to get any advantage you can, and in the end, this is just a necklace, but-” right now, it’s about all I have of you, “it would hurt me personally if something happened to it. Especially if you did it.”

“Hurting it wouldn’t give me any advantage,” he says. “If the answer’s no, it’s no. But I promise, all I want is a closer look.”

Making a decision, she agrees, “Okay.”

He keeps his hands up while she takes it off and walks over to the slot.

Once she’s back in the chair, he gets up and goes over to look at it. “Where’d you buy it?”

“We used to go to pawn shops and yard sales together. Three years ago, on August 14th, on a Wednesday, we were at a pawn shop called Jerry’s Trinkets and Oddments when I found it. It cost ten dollars. You found some vegan shoe polish and wanted to try it on your arrows.”

“Did I get any on it?”

Laughing, she answers, “Almost, but thankfully, no.”

Putting the necklace back into the slot, he goes back to the bed.

She gets it, goes back to the chair, and examines it.

“Here’s what I don’t understand: The trying to break me with kindness part. No one does that. Even S.H.I.E.L.D, with our attempts to respect human rights and the dignity of our prisoners, doesn’t do that.”

“No one’s trying to break you,” she softly tells him.

“Right. I’ve had prison food before. This isn’t. Sometimes, it’s my favourites. Everyone looks at me with sad eyes, like they truly believe that I’m a victim who needs help. Some look at me with respect. Then, there’s you. You come in every day, and I still can’t figure out your angle. I wish you’d just tell me what you want, but that would defeat the purpose, the con, wouldn’t it?”

I want you to remember, she thinks. If I can’t have that, then, I want a chance to gain your trust and be your friend again, at least.

“If you want me to stop visiting, I will,” she says.

“I want to go home,” he snaps. “I want to go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. I don’t care how many records and videos and articles and pictures y’all show me, I know Nick Fury, and I know the organisation we work for. Most importantly, I know myself. I would never trust a Black Widow. I’d never sleep in the same bed with one. And on a different note, if I had a partner like you, a beautiful woman who looked at me the way you do, I’d definitely have tried something.”

Closing her eyes, she concentrates on keeping her face expressionless.

Reopening them, she finds him looking at her curiously.

“Maybe not if she were a Widow,” she offers. “We almost did once. We got drunk on sake, and then, one of our phones rang. Later, you were very gentlemanly. Not to take away from what Phil was, but I was your best friend, too. We worked so well together. Until now, I never thought that there was anything else that could have been motivating you from stopping it.”

He gives her the same apologetic look she’s seen so many times, and forgetting her hurt, for a brief second, she dares to hope some of the old Clint might be resurfacing.

Then, he says, “You aren’t exactly being consistent, darling. We’re friends. We’ve never been together in the biblical sense. We both had too much respect for each other and self-respect for that. Oh, except, we once almost did. And I’m the one who turned _you_ down. Let’s be real. For all I said about never sleeping with a Widow, if I truly had a friend as pretty as you who wanted me and who I trusted as much as you imply I did you, I definitely wouldn’t being saying, ‘Maybe sex wouldn’t screw things up, but I need you more like that than I do anything else.’”

She can’t help jumping.

“Clint, that is what you said. Are you remembering stuff? Please, I’m not asking you to believe anything, just tell me if you are. Tell me what you are.”

The look on his face dashes her hopes before he answers, “No, I’m not.” 

“Just don’t call me ‘sweetheart’," she says. "I’ve never minded ‘darling’, but I always hated it when you called me the other.”

“Why?”

“As I told you back then, I don’t have an obligation to explain why. Just respect my wishes.”

“Or what,” he challenges.

“Well, back then, I would have kicked your ass. Now,” she acknowledges, “there isn’t much I can do.”

He laughs. “I won’t. Far be it for me to deliberately piss off my captor.”

“I’m not your captor. We’re keeping you in here for your own protection. And even if I didn’t know you as well as I did, we both know you’re exactly the kind who would.”

He shrugs. “I still won’t.”

“Thank you.”

…

“Nick-”

“You’ve been pushing for us to take him out into the world.”

“You know I never meant anything like this. Taking him out, maybe letting him go back to his apartment- all that would be to prove we were telling the truth. If we got him to believe that, he might be more willing to help in trying to restore his own memory.”

He sighs. “Hawkeye was one of my best agents, Romanov. Clint Barton, now and then, is a good man. But right now- On top of everything else we’re dealing with, we can’t afford to keep pouring all this into him. Not when there’s so little chance of getting payoff. Before you start accusing me of repaying loyalty or friendship in such a way, let me remind you that even you can’t know for sure our Barton wouldn’t agree to this.”

“Yes, I can,” she snaps. “Under our watch, Clint was compromised. Now, you want to further mess with his mind. Moreover, the mind of an-”

“He’s going to forget S.H.I.E.L.D, he’s going to have more money in his bank account than he could spend in a lifetime, and he’s going to be free to do whatever he wants. Plans are in place to hopefully protect him.”

“Then, why don’t you get his agreement,” she challenges. “Tomorrow, technicians are going to go in, strap him down like they’ve been doing, and right up until it’s all gone, he’s going to have a reasonable belief that he’ll soon be unstrapped and sitting in his cell. Just because he doesn’t believe it, everything he knows right now is true. You want to make him believe a lie, and if he was content to believe this lie, I wouldn’t object.”

“Do you want me to offer the choice? I will. And if he says yes, I won’t say another word,” she promises.

“No. He doesn’t get this choice.”

“Why?”

His eyes are even heavier than his tone when he answers, “Because, he’s proven he will never believe us. We can only imagine what he’s planning. He wouldn’t say ‘yes’, and he’d kickstart any plans he has to try to escape. Or maybe he would say ‘yes’. In which case, he’d still kickstart his escape plans.”

“This isn’t right.”

“Doing right isn’t always the same as doing what is necessary, and doing what is necessary isn’t always right, but doing what is necessary will always be more important,” Fury responds. “Do you remember those words, Natasha?”

Blinking rapidly, she answers, “Yes. And I remember Clint’s response when I said them. More importantly, I remember that you agreed with him.”

“That was a long time ago.”

She turns to walk out, and his voice stops her. “You’ve had more chances than you ever deserved, Black Widow, and so far, you’ve made good use of them. If you interfere, there will be no more. All you’ve done after defecting won’t matter.”

“Understood, sir.”

…

Clint is awake before she’s fully into his cell, and she has him pinned to the floor and the gag over his mouth before he can respond.

“Even if you believed me, you wouldn’t understand how much this truly hurts me, Clint."

Reaching down, she removes his hearing aids and cuffs his wrists and ankles.

She pulls him up, presses a baton against his ribs, and starts walking.

…

Once they’re on a deserted street far from the base, she stops.

Slipping his hearing aids in, she manages to smile. “Hear me, Barton?”

“Yeah,” he tonelessly answers. “I hear you.”

“I need to get back soon.” She sets down his wallet on the ground. “Whatever you think we are, we’re going to be after you, now. There isn’t much I can do. Try not to get caught.”

“Why?”

Standing back up, she wraps her hand around her necklace. “They wanted to do another mind-wipe on you and make you forget all about S.H.I.E.L.D. I don’t just mean our secrets. They would have taken Phil and Fury and probably Mockingbird, too.”

He looks shocked. “You know about her? You never said.”

“It never came up. But yeah, I know all about Bobbi Morse. As for why she wasn’t brought in, she was contacted. I don’t know for sure what her response was.”

“So, you broke me out to keep them from doing this.”

She nods. “Yes. What Loki did was horrible, Clint. And if you wanted this, I wouldn’t have much of a choice but to support you. They weren’t going to give you a choice.”

Thinking of Phil, she adds, “And I suppose, if getting you back isn’t possible, I owe it to our friend to keep him alive for as long as I can. You’ll realise soon enough that he truly is dead, but until then, right now, in your mind, he’s alive and loved. I don’t want to be complicit in doing worse than killing him.”

Taking of the necklace, she puts it around his neck. “Do whatever you want with it. This is me truly letting you go, Clint.”

Leaning down, she undoes his ankle cuffs, tosses the key to the wrist ones on his wallet, knocks him onto the ground, and leaves before he can get back up. 

…

In the morning, when the technicians and armed agents come in, they find her sitting in Clint’s old cell.

…

“Was he worth it,” Fury asks.

“It should be, ‘Was doing the right thing worth it,’” she says. “The answer is, I don’t know.”

“Why are you still here, Romanov? We both know we can’t hold you.”

“But if I gave you a reason, you’d try to kill me, and once upon a time, you almost succeeded. No more chances, right? He’s not worth dying for, that’s for sure.”

…

A year later, she’s doing Power Jacks when Fury comes in.

“Been a long time,” she comments. “This a social visit, or is the world in danger, again?”

“Stop,” he orders.

Complying, she asks, “Why?”

“You have a visitor, Romanov.”

Clint walks in, and she breathes out, “No.”

“It’s alright,” he tells her. When he sits down, Fury leaves. “I still don’t completely believe everything, but- this can’t just be some sort of trick. Years of memory were taken from me. My best friend is dead. S.H.I.E.L.D could still use me. I really don’t get how in the world I’ve ended up in a situation where a Black Widow is the one person I’d have the best bet at trusting, but uh, well, in some ways, I trust you.”

“So,” he says, “if S.H.I.E.L.D can help me get my memory back, I want that. But I’m only going to agree on the condition that you promise to look out for me. No more memories taken.”

Looking into his eyes, she promises, “I’ll always try my best to look out for you, Clint.”

…

“Clint-”

Continuing to pace, he snaps, “Don’t tell me it’s okay. We need to make the straps tighter next time. You should have broken my arm, Widow.”

Clint’s never had any qualms with attacking female combatants but absolutely hated any man who hit an unarmed, civilian woman.

The technician is fine. She has a black eye and had a bloody nose.

“You didn’t purposely hurt her.”

“That doesn’t matter. You still should have.”

The thought makes her sick, but she says, “Okay. Clint, I promise, next time, if you manage to get free and come close to hurting someone, you won’t get past being close. I’ll stop you.”

He finally sits down.

Before Loki, one of them would have put an arm around the other.

“You need to try to eat,” she says.

He looks over. “What did I call you before?”

“Different things,” she answers. “Natasha. Nat. Tasha. Tash. There was never any real pattern to which one you’d call me when. When you were sincerely angry or annoyed, you’d either call me Romanov or Black Widow. When we had to use code names, it was just ‘Widow’.”

“Which did you prefer?”

“I didn’t. They’re all my name.”

He nods. “Yeah, let’s eat.”

…

He calls her ‘Natasha’, and slowly, despite his lack of returning memory, they start going on simple missions together.

…

During a sparring session, she notices bruising on his left wrist. Grabbing his arm, she flips him onto the ground and taps her foot three times. “I yield. Be still.”

She examines the wrist.

Handcuff, not straps, she sees. He hasn’t been strapped down in over a month, but every time he was, she made sure it was across his chest, stomach, and the bottom of his legs rather than his wrists, arms, or ankles.

“Please, tell me that this is from some sex I don’t want to know about. I’ll suggest you use padded handcuffs next time and not ask about who she or he is, and we’ll both soundly pretend we never had this conversation.”

“I wouldn’t object to that,” he says with a half-grin.

“But?”

The grin fades. “That new drug is giving me nightmares I can’t remember. I woke up hanging upside down from my fire escape. So, until we figure out if this drug is doing any good or not, it’s either this or staying here for observation.”

“You’ve been handcuffing yourself."

“Nat? What’s wrong?”

Unable to figure out how to explain, she lets go of him and sits down.

He sits up. “C’mon, Natasha. You made me promise I’d tell you if there was a problem. The same should apply to you.”

“You didn’t think to call me when you found yourself hanging upside down from your fire escape.”

Shrugging, he says, “No one, including me, was hurt. I think one of the neighbourhood kids put a picture on the internet, but that’s minor stuff. If the handcuffing didn’t work, I’d’ve called, but it did. A little bruising, yeah, but my wrist is still fully functional.”

Gathering up her courage, she says, “I know you said you’d never share your bed with a Black Widow. Whatever you did before Loki, you have the right to make such decisions. I’m asking you to please let me stay over, Clint. Or come over to my place. For reasons I’m not going to go into, you handcuffing yourself outside of sex I refuse to think about bothers me.”

He pokes at her until she looks at him.

“Alright,” he agrees. “But if anyone accuses me of corrupting your virtue, I’m telling them that you threw yourself at me.”

Laughing, she tries to punch him, and he dodges.

…

Of everything she expected, having to fight back tears wasn’t one of them.

Clint still sleeps shirtless and on his stomach.

He hadn’t so much as twitched when she wrapped her arms around him.

Until now, she didn’t know how much she missed the feel of his body next to hers, the smell of him, and the sound of him.

She tries to latch onto the anger of, _Loki took this from me._

Loki took so much more from Clint, she knows.

This is a sign of trust, she knows, and she should be grateful and happy Clint is willing to give it to her.

She’s not sure she’s going to win the battle against her tears.

…

When he gets to the gym for their sparring session, he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me your birthday was tomorrow?”

“I’m guessing Fury told you,” she sighs.

He nods.

“Because I didn’t want you to know,” she answers. “I don’t know my true birthday. Tomorrow is a day you and I decided on. Or more accurately, you wouldn’t stop badgering me until I agreed on helping you choose, and I picked the day I thought you most likely wouldn’t remember.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he sarcastically retorts. “Glad to know you’re 100% on my side.”

“Don’t call me that,” she warns. “And I am-”

“What did we do on your birthday? What kind of presents did I get you?”

“Nothing and none, if I could possibly help it. I’m not telling you about the times I couldn’t.”

“Fury will tell me.”

“Clint, please-”

He sits down next to her. “This is new territory for me, Tasha,” he says, and his voice is soft. “We were friends in a way I don’t really understand. There’s a chance we’ll never get that back, but I’d like for us to be actual friends, now. So, I’m asking you how to handle this.”

She hates the thought of, _This isn’t fair._

You can’t damn a god, she knows. Not even the other Asgardians can. For all Loki’s locked in a cell, he’ll be a threat until his death, and even in death, what he did will always leave marks on her, Clint, and humanity at large.

Finally, she says, “I love opera and ballet. You hated the former and were bored by the latter. On my birthdays, you used to take me to one of them. You really don’t need to feel obligated to, Clint, but I wouldn’t object if you asked. As for presents, let’s wait another year before talking about them. If we’re still close, if we’ve become actual friends, I’ll tell you some of the things you got me.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Want to help me buy some ballet tickets and be my guest, sweetheart?”

She lunges.

When half the gym is destroyed and they’re both breathing heavily in separate corners, he inquires, “Is that a yes, Tash?”

“Figure out how to get the tickets yourself. And if I’m not busy, I’ll grace you with my presence.”

He laughs, and it’s heartbreakingly beautiful.

…

One night, they’re eating on his couch when he suddenly asks, “What’s the story behind your defection, Tasha?”

She considers how best to answer.

“‘Tired’ is the word we always used,” she finally tells him. “You were tired that night, and in my own way, so was I. You had me cornered with a compound bow aimed at me. I was badly injured. And to this day, I still don’t- can’t concretely pin down your reasoning. But you lowered the bow, told me I owed you a debt for not killing me, and left.”

“I bandaged myself up and snuck into your hotel room. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time you were awake. We talked, we slept together, and in the morning, Phil had a team there with guns aimed. I was put in a cell, and you started teaching me ASL.”

“What’d we talk about?”

“Why we did what we did. Souls and ledgers. Your soul was stained with red, and so is my ledger.”

“I still remember killing people, Nat. Do you think the ones I don’t remember because of Loki are just wiped clean?”

She shrugs. “We both agreed that neither of ours would ever be clean. You were more sympathetic towards child soldiers and people driven by extreme circumstances than I was.”

“Probably still am,” he says. “I wonder how much of that I got from Phil.”

“I never thought of it like that,” she admits.

“No?”

Everything is quiet until he asks, “Are you still tired, Natasha?”

“Sometimes,” she answers.

He takes a breath. “Knowing how you get when I try to apologise for anything involving Loki, let me just say that, when I was in the cell, even without trusting you, part of me was able to recognise the fact that you were tired. And if it means anything, for all the respect I have for our fellow agents, the ones who don’t get tired- I can’t ever fully trust them.”

She looks over, and his eyes are soft.

“Me either,” she says.

There’s a strand of hair sticking up at an odd angle, and she almost reaches over to touch it.

Nodding, he goes back to his food.

…

At some point, she realises he’s stopped sleeping with his hearing aids in when she sleeps with him, and again, she finds herself battling tears.

…

“It’s been almost three years. What if I never get my memory back?”

She looks over from her book. “I don’t know. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

Please, don’t leave, she inwardly begs.

Setting the bow he’s stringing down, he insists, “Talk to me, Nat. At some point, you might have to accept that your friend is gone for good.”

“Really? How are you here, then?”

“You know what I mean.”

“There are parts of you I miss, and parts of our relationship I miss, but you’re still you, Clint. For your sake, not mine, I want you to get your memories back. If you can’t or decide it’s not important, I’m not going to stop being your friend.”

“Because you love me so,” he jokes.

Keeping her response light, she replies, “Love is for children. Because even now, you and I understand one another in a way most people simply can’t.”

“Lame,” he declares. “Come on, Tash, you started strong. I spend hours playing with animals, have those rubber ducks, which aren’t creepy, thank you very much, and apparently, wouldn’t shut up about you breaking a pair of sunglasses in Paris until Phil bought me a new pair just to get a little peace. Finish strong.”

Unable to keep from grinning, she says, “The days you volunteer at the animal shelter are important. Otherwise, you mostly have a point. Those ducks are creepy, and you childishly insisted on blaming me for the sunglasses being broken. It was your fault.”

“Even without being able to remember it, I feel safe in saying it was probably your fault. You’re just refusing to admit it, even now. Have you no shame?”

“I’m friends with a childish agent who relates better to animals than humans, refuses to take responsibility for his own carelessness, and can’t get out of bed without running into something until he’s had his morning coffee. I work for an organisation that employs such a man. Obviously, the answer is no, and I’m starting to question whether I ever did.”

Their eyes meet, and they both laugh.

…

They’re on a mission, she hears the shot coming before she can see where it’s coming from, and disarming Clint, she wrestles him to the ground and shoves him away.

By the time she sees where it’s coming from, the best she can do is twist her body so it doesn’t hit an organ, and then, she’s lying gasping on the ground. “Hawkeye? I need eyes on Hawkeye. Respond. Was Hawkeye hit? Hawk-”

In and out of consciousness, she drifts.

“Agent Romanov, Barton is unharmed. I need you to breathe.”

“… to the facility in London.”

“Damn it, Romanov, if you don’t open your eyes-”

“Wait,” Clint says, and she latches onto his voice.

There are several IV’s in her, her right side is killing her, and she’s strapped to a gurney.

He comes into view.

“You okay,” she croaks out.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

Then, he leans down and holds something in front of her.

“Necklace,” she manages.

He puts it around her neck, and even with the pain and disorientation, a feeling of rightness she’s been missing for a long time settles over her. “I’m not ready to completely give you up. Come back, you hear?”

She tries to sign but realises she can’t see her hands. “Okay,” she agrees. “Promise. You can always trust me.”

He disappears.

…

When she wakes up, her hands go to her neck.

“Romanov,” Fury says.

“W-wh-”

“Look, Romanov.”

She focuses her eyes.

He’s holding the necklace.

“They had to take it off during the surgeries. Hawkeye was finally given a sedative and put on a couch in the helicarrier when he absolutely refused to leave this room. You’ve been out for almost six days.”

Holding her hands out for the necklace, she looks at him with pleading eyes.

Sighing, he brings it over.

…

There have been times she thought Clint mostly put up with her because of her promise to watch over him, but during her recovery, she learns, if this ever was the case, it isn’t anymore.

He forces her to take it easy, encourages the progress she doesn’t think is good enough, and constantly grants her soft looks and regular touches.

…

Once she’s back in top form, they’re out walking one night when he tugs on her hand.

When she stops, he looks at her, reaches over, and cups her cheek.

“What’s going on, Clint?”

“Are you in love with me, Tash?”

Moving away, she rapidly shakes her head. “Love is- What brought this on, Clint?”

She won’t cry, and whether gods can be damned or not, she wishes it on Loki more strongly than she has in a long time.

“You promised you’d never lie to me,” he reminds her. “And I’m not going to stop asking until you give me an answer.”

“Why?”

“Because, if you are, I’m going to see about kissing you. If you aren’t, I’m going to need some time to start getting over you.”

The words-

“Clint,” she carefully says, “you know how much I care for you. Even back in the cell, you saw fairly quickly that I was heavily invested in you. But your memories-”

“There’s a period in my life where I don’t know who I was. There was a longer period in my life when I didn’t know who you were. I know who I am and who you are, Natasha, and so do you. Plain and simple, I’m in love with you. Now, how do you feel?”

She kisses him, and when he responds, it’s everything.

Then, he moves away. “Tash-”

“Those words aren’t so easy for me." Desperately, she grabs his hand and sighs at the re-established contact. “You know how I feel, Clint. Please, just give me some time to be able to say them.”

Giving her a sympathetic smile, he says, “Sure thing, darling."

“Please, kiss me this time,” she continues.

His free hand goes back up to her cheek, and she shivers in delight and instinctively opens her mouth when his lips meet hers.

She’ll always hate Loki, but she finally sees his mark can significantly fade. Someday, it might be almost completely gone.


End file.
